


Mercy-Kill II: The Horcrux Hunt

by Glowstar826



Series: Mercy-Kill [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Ron Weasley, BAMF Severus Snape, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotions, Epilogue, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Good Albus Dumbledore, Good Harry Potter, Good Hermione Granger, Good Ron Weasley, Good Severus Snape, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, Mentor Severus Snape, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, No Slash, No Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Harry Potter, POV Severus Snape, Romantic Fluff, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowstar826/pseuds/Glowstar826
Summary: "But we have a lead, don't we?" Hermione reminded them quietly. "We can look for Eileen Prince's records in the magical world and Tobias Snape's records in the Muggle world.""But how does this help us find Snape?" Ron asked."If either of his parents are alive—" Harry began after thinking it over for a minute."—then we can ask them where Snape is!" Ron finished. "Hermione, you're a brilliant girl, you are." The red-head proceeded to envelop Hermione in a tight hug as the latter blushed slightly. Then, Ron sighed."This doesn't change the fact that Snape...you know. None of this will bring Dumbledore back."Sequel to "Mercy-Kill." Harry, Ron, and Hermione set out to find Snape, destroy the Horcruxes, and destroy Voldemort. Mentor!Snape, Rational!Harry, Supportive!Ron, Supportive!Hermione, and Evil!Voldemort. Canon relationships. Deathly Hallows AU.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Series: Mercy-Kill [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881823
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	1. The Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hey guys! Due to the love I received on _Mercy-Kill_ , I've decided to start writing an AU, like I said I would! I still feel really terrible for using so many excerpts from the original text, but, like in my one-shot, the original text is necessary to set the stage for what's to come. Again, I have also modified some of the original text and added my own scenes to reflect my own plot, and I hope I don't come across as plagiarizing here, as well. All the excerpts you'll see here are from Chapter 30 (The White Tomb) of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. Without further ado, let us begin our adventure!**

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days—the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on the morning following Dumbledore's death and Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his haughty-looking father. Seamus Finnigan, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany his mother home; they had a shouting match in the Entrance Hall which was resolved when she agreed that he could remain behind for the funeral. She had difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmeade, Seamus told Harry and Ron, for wizards and witches were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore.

Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had never seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen giant winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the Forest. Harry watched from a window as a gigantic and handsome olive-skinned, black-haired woman descended the carriage steps and threw herself into the waiting Hagrid's arms. Meanwhile a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister of Magic himself, was being accommodated within the castle. Harry was diligently avoiding contact with any of them; he was sure that, sooner or later, he would be asked again to account for Dumbledore's last excursion from Hogwarts.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were spending all of their time together. The beautiful weather seemed to mock them; Harry could imagine how it would have been if Dumbledore had not died, and they had had this time together at the very end of the year, Ginny's examinations finished, the pressure of homework lifted…and hour by hour, he put off saying the thing that he knew he must say, doing what he knew it was right to do, because it was too hard to forgo his best source of comfort.

They visited the hospital wing twice a day: Neville had been discharged, but Bill remained under Madam Pomfrey's care. His scars were as bad as ever; in truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody, though thankfully with both eyes and legs, but in personality he seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that he now had a great liking for very rare steaks.

"…so eet ees lucky 'e is marrying me," said Fleur happily, plumping up Bill's pillows, "because ze British overcook their meat, I 'ave always said this."

"I suppose I'm just going to have to accept that he really is going to marry her," sighed Ginny later that evening, as she, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat beside the open window of the Gryffindor common room, looking out over the twilit grounds.

"She's not that bad," said Harry. "Ugly, though," he added hastily, as Ginny raised her eyebrows, and she let out a reluctant giggle.

"Well, I suppose if Mum can stand it, I can."

"Anyone else we know died?" Ron asked Hermione, who was perusing the _Evening Prophet_.

Hermione winced at the forced toughness in his voice.

"No," she said reprovingly, folding up ihe newspaper. "They're still looking for the Death Eaters, trying to figure out who killed Dumbledore, but no sign…"

"Of course there isn't," said Harry dejectedly, remembering that he had to play along with the lie he had told on the night of Dumbledore's death. "They won't find them 'til they find Voldemort, and seeing as they've never managed to do that in all this time…"

"I'm going to go to bed," yawned Ginny. "I haven't been sleeping that well since…well…I could do with some sleep."

She kissed Harry (Ron looked away pointedly), waved at the other two, and departed for the girls' dormitories. The moment the door had closed behind her, Hermione leaned forwards towards Harry with a most Hermione-ish look on her face.

"Harry, I found something out this morning, in the library…"

"R.A.B.?" said Harry whilst letting out a breath of relief. He really hadn't enjoyed lying to anyone about what he had seen, but he knew it was for the best, as did Ron and Hermione.

Harry also did not feel the way he had so often felt before, excited, curious, burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; he simply knew that the task of discovering the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed before he could move a little further along the dark and winding path stretching ahead of him, the path that he and Dumbledore had set out upon together. There might still be as many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even a possibility that Voldemort could be killed. He kept reciting their names to himself, as though by listing them he could bring them within reach: _the locket...the cup…the snake…something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's…the locket…the cup…the snake…something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's…_

This mantra seemed to pulse through Harry's mind as he fell asleep at night, and his dreams were thick with cups, lockets and mysterious objects that he could not quite reach, though Dumbledore helpfully offered Harry a rope ladder that turned to snakes the moment he began to climb…

"No," she said sadly, "I've been trying, Harry, but I haven't found anything…there are a couple of reasonably well-known wizards with those initials—Rosalind Antigone Bungs…Rupert 'Axebanger' Brookstanton…but they don't seem to fit at all. Judging by that note, the person who stole the Horcrux knew Voldemort, and I can't find a shred of evidence that Bungs or Axebanger ever had anything to do with him…no, actually, it's about…well, Snape."

Harry, who had felt disheartened at Hermione's dead end, felt a bubbling excitement in his stomach once more and sat up straight. "Really? So you know where to find him? Anything on where he might live?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. It's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Prince business," she said tentatively.

Harry said nothing, silently urging Hermione to continue.

"I—I was right about Eileen Prince once owning the book. You see…she was Snape's mother!"

Now, both Harry and Ron were listening to Hermione raptly.

"I was going through the rest of the old _Prophets_ and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she'd given birth to a son. Snape must have been proud of being 'half a Prince,' you see? Tobias Snape was a Muggle from what it said in the _Prophet_."

"So you think we can find him, then?" asked Ron.

"I'm not too sure," said Hermione. "I don't know if his parents are even alive."

"Maybe we can look up where he lived as a kid?" offered Harry. "I'm sure there are records if Tobias Snape was a Muggle."

"Yes! Good thinking, Harry!" Hermione cried, and Harry smiled, momentarily forgetting why they were trying to look for Snape in the first place, feeling as though they were trying to figure out who was after the Sorcerer's Stone all over again. He wanted to hold onto this feeling, knowing that it wouldn't be able to last forever, but he ended up letting it go, for he knew that there were dark times looming ahead.

"Records?" asked Ron.

"Things like your birthday, where you live, your address, and even the car you own can be tracked in the Muggle world, since they like to keep records of who buys what or who lives where," Harry replied.

"You have a birth certificate, right?" Hermione asked Ron.

"I guess so...I remember how Fred and George told me how they once hid a piece of paper from Dad and Mum as a prank, and when I asked them to show me, it had Ginny's full name and her birthday with the St. Mungo's logo on top. It also had Mum and Dad's full names on it…"

"Exactly," said Harry. "But why Fred and George would hide Ginny's birth certificate, I'll never know…"

"But we have a lead, don't we?" Hermione reminded them quietly. "We can look for Eileen Prince's records in the magical world and Tobias Snape's records in the Muggle world."

"But how does this help us find Snape?" Ron asked.

"If either of his parents are alive—" Harry began after thinking it over for a minute.

"—then we can ask them where Snape is!" Ron finished. "Hermione, you're a brilliant girl, you are." The red-head proceeded to envelop Hermione in a tight hug as the latter blushed slightly. Then, Ron sighed.

"This doesn't change the fact that Snape...you know. None of this will bring Dumbledore back."

Silence fell between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts, but Harry was sure that they, like him, were thinking about the following morning, when Dumbledore's body would be laid to rest. Harry had never attended a funeral before; there had been no body to bury when Sirius had died. He did not know what to expect and was a little worried about what he might see, about how he would feel. He wondered whether Dumbledore's death would be more real to him once the funeral was over. Though he had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm him, there were blank stretches of numbness where, despite the fact that nobody was talking about anything else in the whole castle, he still found it difficult to believe that Dumbledore had really gone. Admittedly he had not, as he had with Sirius, looked desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that Dumbledore would come back…he felt in his pocket for the cold chain of the fake Horcrux, which he now carried with him everywhere, not as a talisman, but as a reminder of what it had cost and what remained still to do.

Harry rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral. Downstairs he found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the throne-like chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted too: Harry thought that perhaps he had not been able to face breakfast; but Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry avoided his yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall; Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimgeour was looking for him. Among Scrimgeour's entourage Harry spotted the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was aware of Percy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with unwonted venom.

Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were muttering together. Hulking boys though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malfoy between them, bossing them around. Harry had not spared Malfoy much thought. He had not forgotten the fear in Malfoy's voice on that Tower top, nor the fact that he had lowered his wand before the other Death Eaters arrived. Harry did not believe that Malfoy would have killed Dumbledore. He despised Malfoy still for his infatuation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with his dislike. Where, Harry wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort making him do under threat of killing him and his parents?

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Ginny. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

They filed out from behind their benches in near silence. Harry glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the Entrance Hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.

They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped out onto the stone steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the center of them: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer's day.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Most Harry did not recognise, but there were a few that he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands (so Tonks _hadn't_ fallen in love with Sirius after all), Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, supported by Fleur, and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin. Oddly enough, Snape wasn't there like Harry and his friends had thought he would be. He was probably trying to stay hidden from the crowd for a while, Harry thought. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own, Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, Arabella Figg, Harry's Squib neighbor, the hairy bass player from the wizarding group the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom Harry merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog's Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, Harry saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna. They alone of all the D.A. had responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died, and Harry knew why: they were the ones who had missed the D.A. most…probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting.

Cornelius Fudge walked past them towards the front rows, his expression miserable, twirling his green bowler hat as usual; Harry next recognised Rita Skeeter, who, he was infuriated to see, had a notebook clutched in her red-taloned hand; and then, with a worse jolt of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toad-like face, a black velvet bow set atop her ironcolored curls. At the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away.

The staff were seated at last. Harry could see Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall. He wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that Dumbledore was dead. But then he heard music, strange, otherworldly music, and he forgot his dislike of the Ministry in looking around for the source of it. He was not the only one: many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

"In there," whispered Ginny in Harry's ear.

And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, reminding him horribly of the Inferi; a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language he did not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made the hair on Harry's neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As he looked down into the wild faces of the singers he had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore's passing. Then Ginny nudged him again and he looked round.

Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Harry knew to be Dumbledore's body. A sharp pain rose in Harry's throat at this sight: for a moment, the strange music and the knowledge that Dumbledore's body was so close seemed to take all warmth from the day. Ron looked white and shocked. Tears were falling thick and fast into both Ginny and Hermione's laps. Harry looked around, looking once more to see if Snape was hidden in the trees somewhere, maybe here to try and pay his respects without drawing attention to himself, but he wasn't there. His old hatred for Snape started rising in his throat again; he _mercy-killed_ Dumbledore, for crying out loud, but he couldn't even have the decency to pay his respects?

They could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalized looks from some, including, Harry saw, Dolores Umbridge…but Harry knew that Dumbledore would not have cared. He tried to make a friendly gesture to Hagrid as he passed, but Hagrid's eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going. Harry glanced at the back row to which Hagrid was heading and realized what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee, was the giant Grawp, his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Hagrid sat down next to his half-brother and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the head, so that his chair legs sank into the ground. Harry had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the front again.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. Harry could not hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of beads. "Nobility of spirit"…"intellectual contribution"…"greatness of heart"…it did not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as Harry had known him. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's idea of a few words: "nitwit," "oddment," "blubber," and "tweak," and again, had to suppress a grin…what was the matter with him?

There was a soft splashing noise to his left and he saw that the merpeople had broken the surface to listen, too. He remembered Dumbledore crouching at the water's edge two years ago, very close to where Harry now sat, and conversing in Mermish with the Merchieftainess. Harry wondered where Dumbledore had learned Mermish. There was so much he had never asked him, so much he should have said…

And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was dead, gone…he clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes: he looked away from Ginny and the others and stared out over the lake, towards the Forest, as the little man in black droned on…there was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They did not move into the open but Harry saw them standing quite still, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides. And Harry remembered his first nightmarish trip into the Forest, the first time he had ever encountered the thing that was then Voldemort, and how he had faced him, and how he and Dumbledore had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated…

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one: that the shelter of a parent's arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died and he was more alone than he had ever been before.

The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. Harry waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes: Harry thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Harry knew, the centaurs' tribute: he saw them turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees. Likewise the merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.

Harry looked at Ginny, Ron and Hermione: Ron's face was screwed up as though the sunlight was blinding him. Hermione's face was glazed with tears, but Ginny was no longer crying. She met Harry's gaze with the same hard, blazing look that he had seen when she had hugged him after winning the Quidditch Cup in his absence, and he knew that at that moment they understood each other perfectly, and that when he told her what he was going to do now, she would not say "Be careful," or "Don't do it," but accept his decision, because she would not have expected anything less of him. And so he steeled himself to say what he had known he must say ever since Dumbledore had died.

"Ginny, listen…" he said very quietly, as the buzz of conversation grew louder around them and people began to get to their feet. "I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together."

She said, with an oddly twisted smile, "It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?"

"It's been like…like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you," said Harry. "But I can't…we can't…I've got things to do alone now." _Like finding Snape. Like finding those Horcruxes_.

However, she did not cry. She just simply looked at him.

"Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to," Harry continued. "He's already used you as bait once, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you."

"What if I don't care?" said Ginny fiercely.

"I care," said Harry. "How do you think I'd feel if this was your funeral…and it was my fault…"

She looked away from him, over the lake.

"I never really gave up on you," she said. "Not really. I always hoped…Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more—myself."

"Smart girl, that Hermione," said Harry, trying to smile. "I just wish I'd asked you sooner. We could've had ages…months…years maybe…"

"But you've been too busy saving the wizarding world," said Ginny, half-laughing. "Well…I can't say I'm surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much."

Harry wanted to correct Ginny, to tell her that he _wasn't_ happy hunting Voldemort, _wasn't_ happy to go on this journey, but—

"Harry!"

Harry looked up. Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly towards him, leaning on his walking stick. Ginny stood up, gave Harry a peck on his cheek and a quick, slightly lingering hug, and she walked away to join her parents and brothers.

"I've been hoping to have a word…do you mind if I walk a little way with you?"

"No," said Harry indifferently, and he stood up and started walking beside him.

"Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy," said Scrimgeour quietly, "I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I—"

"What do you want?" asked Harry flatly.

As Scrimgeour started walking around the lake, he told Harry, "You are, of course, devastated. I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favorite ever pupil. The bond between the two of you—"

"What do you want?" Harry repeated, stopping in his tracks.

Scrimgeour stopped too, leaning on his stick and staring at Harry, his expression shrewd.

"The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night that he died."

"Whose word?" said Harry.

"Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the Tower after Dumbledore died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Harry."

Harry paused before giving his answer, wondering for a second if anyone else saw Snape killing Dumbledore.

"Glad to hear it," Harry decided to reply, trying not to hint at anything amiss. "Well, where I went with Dumbledore and what we did is my business. He didn't want people to know."

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course," said Scrimgeour, who seemed to be restraining his irritation with difficulty, "but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's gone"

"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him," said Harry, smiling in spite of himself.

"My dear boy…even Dumbledore cannot return from the—"

"I am not saying he can. You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing to tell you."

Scrimgeour hesitated, then said, in what was evidently supposed to be a tone of delicacy, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at your service—"

Harry laughed.

"Voldemort wants to kill me himself and Aurors won't stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

"So," said Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, "the request I made of you at Christmas—"

"What request? Oh yeah…the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for—"

"—for raising everyone's morale!" snapped Scrimgeour.

Harry considered him for a moment.

"Released Stan Shunpike yet?"

Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple color highly reminiscent of Uncle Vernon.

"I see you are—"

"Dumbledore's man through and through," Harry finished. "That's right."

Scrimgeour glared at him for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word. Harry could see Percy and the rest of the Ministry delegation waiting for him, casting nervous glances at the sobbing Hagrid and Grawp, who were still in their seats. Ron and Hermione were hurrying towards Harry, passing Scrimgeour going in the opposite direction; Harry turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which they had sat in happier times.

"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered.

"Same as he wanted at Christmas," shrugged Harry. "Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new poster boy."

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly to Hermione, "Look, let me go back and hit Percy!"

"No," she said firmly, grabbing his arm.

"It'll make me feel better!"

Harry laughed. Even Hermione grinned a little, though her smile faded as she looked up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back." she said softly. "How can Hogwarts close?"

"Maybe it won't," said Ron. "We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?"

"I don't know, to be honest with you," said Harry. "There's so much we have to do. We've got to find Snape, and I have to find the Horcruxes—"

"I know," said Hermione. "But what'll you do before then?"

"I'm going back to the Dursleys once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to," said Harry. "But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good."

"The way you say it sounds so finalistic, so grave—" began Ron.

"—because that's how it is," said Harry. "We're not kids anymore, learning Cheering Charms or _Wingardium Leviosa_. We're fighting a war. Dumbledore's gone, Voldemort is gaining power—the only way to stop him is if I can destroy his only lifelines. And, if Snape really _is_ on our side...well, I'm sure he'll want to help me."

"You talk as if you're going to do this alone," said Ron amusedly. "D'you _really_ think that we'll let you go Horcrux-hunting by yourself?"

Harry froze. He had not counted on this; he had meant for them to understand that he was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone.

"You said to us once before," said Hermione quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

"We're with you whatever happens," said Ron.

Harry found himself smiling. Ron and Hermione really were amazing friends. _His_ amazing friends.

"Besides," Ron added, "you can't miss Bill and Fleur's wedding! Mum'll go hysteric!"

Harry paused for a moment before bursting into laughter; he couldn’t help it. The idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist in the midst of a war gave Harry a wonderful, elated feeling. After a few seconds, Ron and Hermione joined him. It seemed that they shared the same thoughts Harry did.

"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," said Harry after recovering from his laughter. Then, he pulled his friends in for a tight group hug.

"I love you guys, you know that?" said Harry, feeling true happiness for the first time since Dumbledore's death.

"We do too, Harry," said Ron.

"Like Ron said, we're with you whatever happens," Hermione finished.

They remained standing there in front of the lake, silently taking in the other's presence. In spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, Harry felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione before they set out to finish this damn war once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I certainly enjoyed writing it (more like, I enjoyed modifying it, lol). Let me know what you think in the reviews! Feedback is most appreciated!**


	2. Goodbye, Privet Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hey guys! So sorry that it's taken _months_ for me to update this! As you can see, I've been busy with school and other stories, so that's why it took a while to upload the second chapter. There was also an internal crisis I had where I had to determine whether I wanted to flip from Harry's perspective to Severus's perspective or just stick to Harry's perspective, and ultimately, I decided on the latter (I actually wrote a few paragraphs from Sev's POV and then I erased them and rewrote them and there was just this whole thing of starting from scratch over and over and _over_ ).**
> 
> **Additionally, there are, yet again, HUGE excerpts that are necessary to further this plot from Chapter 3 (The Dursleys Departing) and Chapter 4 (The Seven Potters), and there are also a few pieces of dialogue from Chapter 5 (Fallen Warrior) of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. I would also like to add that there is significantly more input from my end that is necessary to this plot, and I think that, after this chapter, it's going to be all me from now on! So, yay for that! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this second chapter!**

Harry stared up at the seemingly decrepit ceiling in his room. For the past two weeks, he had been trying to come up with ways that he could find records of Tobias Snape so that he would be able to give those ideas to Hermione to use after her eighteenth birthday in September. He had written to Hermione as soon as he got home to tell her to look for information as well. He did not bother with Ron because he was the least knowledgeable in Muggle affairs, but he still owled him to ask if he could find records of Eileen Snape, who was a pureblood witch. Hopefully, by the time they met again, they would be able to form a plan. So far, Harry had the library and a Muggle government office in mind, but that was all he could think of. He did not get a chance to do any more research than that.

Harry sat up when he heard a clicking sound on his window, and he hurried to it when he saw Pig flying around erratically outside. He quickly unlocked the window and let Pig in, opening Hedwig's cage to let the owl rest. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the front page of the _Evening Prophet_ on Pig's talon:

_**SEVERUS SNAPE REVEALED TO BE DUMBLEDORE'S MURDERER!** _

He did not realize he was gaping at the headline until he started reading the note that was attached to the _Prophet_ :

_Hey Harry,_

_Hermione owled me this, and I saw the headline. Crazy, right? It's going to be a hell of a lot more difficult to find Snape, though, since everyone knows now. Oddly enough, Mum's the one in shock while Dad is ranting about how he shouldn't have trusted him and how he had a nagging thought that there was something off about the way he acted. I tried my best to look as shocked as my family, but I don't know if they believed it. Anyways, I'll sign off, and I'll see you soon._

— _Ron_

Sighing, Harry set the note down and read the article on Snape. He wondered how anyone got wind of the information in the first place, seeing as he was the only one on his side who witnessed Dumbledore's death. He knew Ron and Hermione definitely did not betray him. Maybe one of the Death Eaters leaked the information? That was the only possible explanation. Otherwise, someone overheard his discussion with his friends back at Hogwarts and let the Ministry know. That thought made Harry tense. Who would have been watching him? Who was listening in? And if so, would he be arrested by the Ministry for withholding information?

Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair and laid back on his bed. Everything was so fucked up and convoluted, now. That morning, Harry had completely emptied his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three-quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom—old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit. He had spent time reviewing his old things, such as the old _POTTER STINKS_ and _Support CEDRIC DIGGORY_ badges from the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year. He also found a fragment of his dead godfather's enchanted mirror that had been gifted to him in his fifth year, which made Harry want to scream as he did at Snape just last month for his own stupidity.

He was harshly pulled from his thoughts as he heard his uncle yell, "Oi! You!"

Sixteen years of being addressed thus left Harry in no doubt whom his uncle was calling; nevertheless, he did not immediately respond. It was not until his uncle bellowed, "BOY!" that Harry got slowly to his feet and headed for the bedroom door.

"You took your time!" roared Vernon Dursley when Harry appeared at the top of the stairs. "Get down here, I want a word!"

Harry strolled downstairs, his hands deep in his jeans pockets. When he reached the sitting room, he found all three Dursleys. They were dressed for traveling: Uncle Vernon in a fawn zip-up jacket, Aunt Petunia in a neat, salmon-colored coat, and Dudley, Harry's large, blond, muscular cousin, in his leather jacket.

"Yes?" asked Harry.

"Sit down!" said Uncle Vernon. Harry raised his eyebrows. "Please!" added Uncle Vernon, wincing slightly as though the word was sharp in his throat.

Harry sat. He thought he knew what was coming. His uncle began to pace up and down, Aunt Petunia and Dudley following his movements with anxious expressions. Finally, his large, purple face crumpled with concentration, Uncle Vernon stopped in front of Harry and spoke.

"I've changed my mind," he said.

"What a surprise," said Harry sarcastically.

"Don't you take that tone—" began Aunt Petunia in a shrill voice, but Vernon Dursley waved her down.

"It's all a lot of claptrap," said Uncle Vernon, glaring at Harry with piggy little eyes. "I've decided I don't believe a word of it. We're staying put, we're not going anywhere."

Harry rolled his eyes. For the past twenty-four hours, Vernon Dursley had been packing, unpacking, and repacking the car with his random mind changes. His favorite moment was when Dudley had packed his dumbbells when he had forgotten to and Uncle Vernon accidentally dropped it on his feet. The subsequent fit he had thrown was very amusing, to say the least.

"'Course not," said Harry flippantly, and he did not blink an eye when his aunt scolded him again. "Because 'my lot' can't be trusted, can they?"

"No!" agreed Uncle Vernon. "According to you, we're in danger from—from—"

"Voldemort," finished Harry, crossing his arms lazily.

"Yes—him," Uncle Vernon stammered. "Well, we don't believe it! I spent last night thinking it over, and—and I believe it's a plot to get the house!"

"House?" questioned Harry. "What house?"

" _This_ house!" shrieked his uncle, gesturing around him wildly for emphasis. " _Our_ house! House prices are sky-rocketing 'round here! You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus-pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your name and—"

"Are you out of your _mind_? A _plot_ to get the house? Are you _actually_ as stupid as you look?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Don't you _dare_ —" Aunt Petunia warned again, but it went unheeded as Uncle Vernon waved her down once more.

"I've got a house if you remember," continued Harry. "I inherited my godfather's after he died. Why would I want _this_ one? Nostalgia? Happy memories?" As Harry pointed out the absurdity of his uncle's claim, he heard a knock.

"That'll be them," said Harry, getting up to go and answer the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones.

"I see you are packed and ready. Excellent!" said Dedalus cheerfully as he stepped inside. "The plan, as Harry has told you, is a simple one," said Dedalus, pulling an immense pocket watch out of his waistcoat and examining it. "We shall be leaving before Harry does. Due to the danger of using magic in your house—Harry being still underage, it could provide the Ministry with an excuse to arrest him—we shall be driving, say ten miles or so, before Disapparating to the safe location we have picked out for you. You know how to drive, I take it?" he asked Uncle Vernon politely.

"Know how to—? Of course I ruddy well know how to drive!" spluttered Uncle Vernon.

"Very clever of you, sir, very clever, I personally would be utterly bamboozled by all those buttons and knobs," said Dedalus. He was clearly under the impression that he was flattering Vernon Dursley, who was visibly losing confidence in the plan with every word Dedalus spoke.

"Listen to me for once," urged Harry to his uncle. "Voldemort is going to _kill_ you once I turn seventeen and the wards fall. Either that or he's going to kidnap you and use you as a leverage to get to me."

At this point, Harry was pleading with his uncle to see sense. He truly did not wish to see the Dursleys dead, no matter how badly they treated him in the past. No one deserved the torture that Voldemort was capable of dishing out. Not even them.

"Is—is something the matter?" asked Dedalus with concern.

"Dad," said Dudley in a loud voice, "Dad—I'm going with these Order people."

"Dudley," said Harry, "for the first time in your life, you're talking sense."

At this point, Harry knew that the battle was won. If Dudley was frightened enough to accept the Order's help, his parents would accompany him; there could be no question of being separated from their Diddykins. Harry glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

"There's no matter," Uncle Vernon said in what he thought was an assuring voice to Dedalus. Then, he continued to Harry, "I guess this is goodbye, then, boy," and he awkwardly held out his hand for Harry to shake. He quickly took it back when Harry made no move to grasp it. Then, Uncle Vernon started to go out the door but stopped when he saw that Dudley did not move.

"C'mon, Dudders. We're on a tight schedule, right?"

"Yes," confirmed Dedalus.

Harry crossed his arms again as another awkward silence passed between the six of them.

"But—but I don't understand," said Dudley.

"Don't understand what, Popkin?" said Aunt Petunia.

"Why isn't he coming with us?" asked Dudley, gesturing his meaty hand to Harry.

"Well—because he doesn't want to," answered Uncle Vernon. "You don't want to, do you, boy?"

"Not in the slightest," said Harry.

"See?" said Uncle Vernon. "Now c'mon, let's—"

"But where's he gonna go?" pressed Dudley.

"But...surely you know where your nephew is going?" Hestia asked, looking bewildered.

"Certainly we know," said Vernon Dursley. "He's off with some of your lot, isn't he? Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry."

Again, Vernon Dursley marched as far as the front door, but Dudley did not follow.

"Off with some of _our_ lot?"

Hestia looked outraged. Harry had met this attitude before; witches and wizards seemed stunned that his closest living relatives took so little interest in the famous Harry Potter.

"It's fine," Harry assured her. "It doesn't matter, honestly."

"Doesn't matter?" repeated Hestia, her voice rising ominously. "Don't these people realize what you've been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?"

"Er—no, they don't," said Harry. "They think I'm a waste of space, actually, but I'm used to—"

"I don't think you're a waste of space."

If Harry had not seen Dudley's lips move, he might not have believed it. As it was, he stared at Dudley for several seconds before accepting that it must have been his cousin who had spoken; for one thing, Dudley had turned red. Harry was embarrassed and astonished himself.

"Well...er...thanks, Dudley."

Again, Dudley appeared to grapple with thoughts too unwieldy for expression before mumbling, "You saved my life."

"Not really," said Harry. "It was your soul the dementor would have taken…"

He looked curiously at his cousin. They had had virtually no contact during this summer or last, as Harry had come back to Privet Drive so briefly and kept to his room so much. After opening his mouth once or twice more, Dudley subsided into

scarlet-faced silence.

Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look which changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forwards and embraced Dudley rather than Harry.

"S-so sweet, Dudders…" she sobbed into his massive chest, "s-such a lovely b-boy...s-saying thank you…"

"But he hasn't said thank you at all!" said Hestia indignantly. "He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!"

"Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like 'I love you'," said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved Harry from a burning building.

"Are we going or not?" roared Uncle Vernon, reappearing yet again at the sitting room door. "I thought we were on a tight schedule!"

"Yes—yes, we are," said Dedalus Diggle, who had been watching these exchanges with an air of bemusement and now seemed to pull himself together. 'We really must be off. Harry, but before that, I must let you know that plans have changed. Mad-Eye Moody is no longer going to Side-Along Apparate you to the Burrow. He'll explain the new plan once he comes."

"All right, then," said Harry, slightly surprised that the plan changed so abruptly.

"Farewell, Harry," said Hestia, clasping his hand. "Our thoughts go with you."

"I hope everything's okay," said Harry, with a glance towards Aunt Petunia and Dudley.

"Oh, I'm sure we shall end up the best of chums," said Dedalus brightly, waving his hat as he left the room. Hestia followed him.

Dudley gently released himself from his mother's clutches and walked towards Harry, who had to repress an urge to threaten him with magic. Then Dudley held out his large, pink hand.

"Blimey, Dudley," said Harry, over Aunt Petunia's renewed sobs, "did the dementors blow a different personality into you?"

"Dunno," muttered Dudley. "See you, Harry."

"Yeah…" said Harry, taking Dudley's hand and shaking it. "Maybe. Take care, Big D."

Dudley nearly smiled, then lumbered from the room. Harry heard his heavy footfalls on the graveled drive, and then a car door slammed.

Aunt Petunia, whose face had been buried in her handkerchief, looked around at the sound. She did not seem to have expected to find herself alone with Harry. Hastily stowing her wet handkerchief into her pocket she said, "Well—goodbye," and marched towards the door without looking at him.

"Goodbye," said Harry.

She stopped and looked back. For a moment Harry had the strangest feeling that she wanted to say something to him; she gave him an odd, tremulous look and seemed to teeter on the edge of speech, but then, with a little jerk of her head, she bustled out of the room after her husband and son.

Harry found himself wondering what Mad-Eye's new plan would be as he headed up the stairs and watched the Dursleys' car drive off into the sunset. He grabbed a rucksack and started packing lightly with some clothes and other items. Then, he repacked his trunk and took his things downstairs, going back up to retrieve Hedwig's cage.

Harry looked around the sitting room, which felt oddly bare and empty without the Dursleys' presence. He had a momentary imagination of Vernon Dursley changing his mind yet again and turning the car back, and he could not hold back the light laughter the thought elicited. A warmth spread through Harry at the thought of Dudley's apparent concern. He found himself hoping for a better relationship with his cousin if he really meant what he said. Maybe the dementors really _did_ blow a new personality into Dudley.

Harry went back to his old cupboard and looked around at the stacked shoes and umbrellas, remembering how he used to wake every morning looking up at the underside of the staircase, which was more often than not adorned with a spider or two. Those had been the days before he had known anything about his true identity, before he had found out how his parents had died or why such strange things often happened around him. But Harry could still remember the dreams that had dogged him, even in those days, confusing dreams involving flashes of green light and, once—Uncle Vernon had nearly crashed the car when Harry had recounted it—a flying motorbike…

There was a sudden, deafening roar from somewhere nearby. Harry straightened up with a jerk and smacked the top of his head on the low door frame.

"Fucking hell," said Harry as he staggered back into the kitchen, clutching his head and staring out of the window into the back garden.

The darkness seemed to be rippling, the air itself quivering. Then, one by one, figures began to pop into sight as their Disillusionment Charms lifted. Dominating the scene was Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people were dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black-winged horses.

Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtled into their midst. There was a general cry of greeting as Hermione flung her arms around him, Ron clapped him on the back and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

"Definitely," said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"

"Change of plan," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous, bulging sacks and whose magical eye was spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity. "Let's get undercover before we talk you through it."

Harry led them all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering, they settled on chairs, sat themselves upon Aunt Petunia's gleaming work-surfaces, or leaned up against her spotless appliances: Ron, long and lanky, Hermione, her bushy hair tied back in a long plait, Fred and George, grinning identically, Bill, badly scarred and long-haired, Mr. Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry, Mad-Eye, battle-worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket, Tonks, whose short hair was her favorite shade of bright pink, Lupin, grayer, more lined, Fleur, slender and beautiful, with her long, silvery blonde hair, Kingsley, bald, black, broad-shouldered, Hagrid, with his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, and Mundungus Fletcher, small, dirty and hangdog, with his droopy, basset hound's eyes and matted hair. Harry's heart seemed to expand and glow at the sight; he felt incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom he had tried to strangle the last time they had met.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" he called across the room.

"He can get along without me for one night," said Kingsley. "You're more important."

"Harry, guess what?" said Tonks from her perch on top of the washing machine, and she wiggled her left hand at him; a ring glittered there.

"You got married?" Harry yelped, looking from her to Lupin.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry, it was very quiet," said Lupin.

"That's brilliant, congrat—"

"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch-up later!" roared Moody over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody dropped the sacks at his feet and turned to Harry. "As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who from getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you from getting out of here safely. Second problem, you're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."

"I don't—"

"The Trace, the Trace!" said Mad-Eye impatiently. "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters. We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you'll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short, Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."

Harry could not help but agree with the unknown Thicknesse.

"So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can't detect, because we don't need to cast spells to use them: brooms, Thestrals, and Hagrid's motorbike."

Harry could see flaws in this plan. However, he held his tongue to give Mad-Eye the chance to address them.

"Now, your mother's charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or—" Moody gestured around the pristine kitchen, "—you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you're never going to live together again, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"So this time, when you leave, there'll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range. We're choosing to break it early because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen.

"The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're moving you tonight. We've leaked a fake trail to the Ministry, so they think you're not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we're dealing with, so we can't just rely on him getting the date wrong; he's bound to have a couple of Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So, we've given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we're going to hide you, they've all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingsley's place, Molly's Auntie Muriel's—you get the idea."

"Yeah," said Harry, not entirely truthfully, because he could still spot a gaping hole in the plan.

"You'll be going to Tonks's parents'. Once you're within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we've put on their house, you'll be able to use a Portkey to The Burrow. Any questions?"

"Er—yes," said Harry. "Maybe they won't know which of the twelve secure houses I'm heading for at first, but won't it be sort of obvious once" —he performed a quick headcount— "fourteen of us fly off towards Tonks's parents'?"

"Ah," said Moody,"'I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won't be flying to Tonks's parents'. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house."

From inside his cloak, Moody now withdrew a flask of what looked like mud. There was no need for him to say another word: Harry understood the rest of the plan immediately.

"No!" he said loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen. "No way!"

"I told them you'd take it like this," said Hermione, with a hint of complacency.

"If you think I'm going to let six people risk their lives—!"

"Yes, because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron with a hint of sarcasm.

"This is different, pretending to be me—"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

Harry did not smile.

"You can't do it if I don't cooperate, you need me to give you some hair."

"Well, that's that plan scuppered," said George. "Obviously there's no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate."

"Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic. We've got no chance!" said Fred in a mocking tone of fright.

"Funny," said Harry flatly. "Really amusing."

"If it has to come to force, then it will," growled Moody, his magical eye now quivering a little in its socket as he glared at Harry. "Everyone here's overage, Potter, and they're all prepared to take the risk."

Mundungus shrugged and grimaced; the magical eye swerved sideways to glare at him out of the side of Moody's head.

"Let's have no more arguments. Time's wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now."

"But this is mad, there's no need—"

"No need!" snarled Moody. "With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we're lucky, he'll have swallowed the fake bait and he'll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he'd be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it's what I'd do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother's charm holds, but it's about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into seven."

Harry caught Hermione's eye and looked away at once.

"So, Potter—some of your hair, if you please."

Harry glanced at Ron, who grimaced at him in a just-do-it sort of way.

"Now!" barked Moody.

With all of their eyes upon him, Harry reached up to the top of his head, grabbed a hank of hair, and pulled.

"Good," said Moody, limping forwards as he pulled the stopper out of the flask of Potion.

"Straight in here, if you please."

Harry dropped the hair into the mud-like liquid. The moment it made contact with its surface the potion began to froth and smoke; all at once, it turned a clear, bright gold.

"Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry," said Hermione, before catching sight of Ron's raised eyebrows, blushing slightly and clarifying, "Oh, you know what I mean—Goyle's Potion looked like bogies."

"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please," said Moody.

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Fleur lined up in front of Aunt Petunia's gleaming sink.

"We're one short," said Lupin.

"Here," said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck and dropped him down beside Fleur, who wrinkled her nose pointedly and moved along to stand between Fred and George instead.

"I've toldjer, I'd sooner be a protector," said Mundungus.

"Shut it," growled Moody. "As I've already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-Who would want to finish Potter in person. It'll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters'll want to kill them."

Mundungus did not look particularly reassured, but Moody was already pulling half a dozen egg cup-sized glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed out, before pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one.

"Altogether, then…"

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Fleur, and Mundungus drank. All of them gasped and grimaced as the Potion hit their throats: at once, their features began to bubble and distort like hot wax. Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upwards while Ron, Fred, and George were shrinking, and their hair was darkening while Hermione's and Fleur's appeared to shoot backward into their skulls.

Moody, quite unconcerned, was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had brought with him: when he straightened up again, six Harry Potters were gasping and panting in front of him.

Fred and George turned to each other and said together, 'Wow—we're identical!"

"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better-looking," said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

"Bah," said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, "Bill, don't look at me—I'm 'ideous."

"Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here," said Moody, indicating the first sack, "and vice versa. Don't forget the glasses, there's six pairs in the side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack."

The real Harry thought that this might just be the most bizarre thing he had ever seen, and he had seen some extremely odd things. He watched as his six doppelgängers rummaged in the sacks, pulling out sets of clothes, putting on glasses, stuffing their own things away. He felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own.

"I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo," said Ron, looking down at his bare chest.

"Harry, your eyesight really is awful," said Hermione, as she put on glasses.

Once dressed, the fake Harrys took rucksacks and owl cages, each containing a stuffed snowy owl, from the second sack.

"Good," said Moody, as at last seven dressed, bespectacled and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. "The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus will be traveling with me, by broom—"

"Why'm I with you?" grunted the Harry nearest the back door.

"Because you're the one that needs watching," growled Moody, and sure enough, his magical eye did not waver from Mundungus as he continued, "Arthur and Fred—"

"I'm George," said the twin at whom Moody was pointing. "Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry, George—"

"I'm only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really—"

"Enough messing around!" snarled Moody. "The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are—you're with Remus. Miss Delacour—"

"I'm taking Fleur on a Thestral," said Bill. "She's not that fond of brooms."

Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that Harry hoped with all his heart would never appear on her face again.

"Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by Thestral—"

Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley's smile; Harry knew that Hermione, too, lacked confidence on a broomstick.

"Which leaves you and me, Ron!" said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug-tree as she waved at him.

Ron did not look quite as pleased as Hermione.

"An' you're with me, Harry. That all righ'?" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. "We'll be on the bike, brooms an' Thestrals can't take me weight, see. "Not a lot o' room on the seat with me on it, though, so you'll be in the sidecar."

"That's great," said Harry, not altogether truthfully.

"We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom," said Moody, who seemed to guess how Harry was feeling. "I'm sure Snape's had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he's never mentioned before—"

Harry involuntarily clenched his fist at that. Up until this point, he had had no doubt that Snape had told him the truth, but that little thorn of doubt lodged itself into Harry's skin once more as he realized that Snape might have only told him that crucial-sounding information to confuse him and divert suspicion.

"—so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we're betting they'll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then," he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters' clothes in it and leading the way back to the door, "I make it three minutes until we're supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won't keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking...come on…"

Harry hurried into the hall to fetch his rucksack, Firebolt, and Hedwig's cage before joining the others in the dark back garden. On every side broomsticks were leaping into hands; Hermione had already been helped up on to a great, black Thestral by Kingsley; Fleur on to the other by Bill. Hagrid was standing ready beside the motorbike, goggles on.

"Is this it? Is this Sirius's bike?"

"The very same," said Hagrid, beaming down at Harry. "An' the last time you was on it, Harry, I could fit yeh in one hand!"

Harry could not help but feel a little humiliated as he got into the sidecar. It placed him several feet below everybody else; Ron smirked at the sight of him sitting there like a child in a bumper car. Harry stuffed his rucksack and broomstick down by his feet and rammed Hedwig's cage between his knees. It was extremely uncomfortable.

"Arthur's done a bit o' tinkerin'," said Hagrid, quite oblivious to Harry's discomfort. He settled himself astride the motorcycle, which creaked slightly and sank inches into the ground. "It's got a few tricks up its handlebars now. Tha' one was my idea."

He pointed a thick finger at a purple button near the speedometer.

"Please be careful, Hagrid," said Mr. Weasley, who was standing beside them, holding his broomstick. "I'm still not sure that was advisable and it's certainly only to be used in emergencies."

"All right then," said Moody. "Everyone ready, please. I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion's lost."

Everybody mounted their brooms.

"Hold tight, now, Ron," said Tonks, and Harry saw Ron throw a furtive, guilty look at Lupin before placing his hands on either side of her waist. Hagrid kicked the motorbike into life; it roared like a dragon and the sidecar began to vibrate.

"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody. "See you all in about an hour at The Burrow. On the count of three. One...two...THREE!"

…

Harry's eyes blinked open as he sat up. He looked over at Ron, who was staring at a wall. They were at the Burrow, and it had been two days since Harry left Privet Drive.

"Morning, Harry," said Ron, noticing Harry's movement.

"Morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Hardly."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear. Is it Mad-Eye? Hedwig?"

Harry sighed, knowing that Ron was referring to Hedwig and Mad-Eye Moody's deaths.

While they were flying through the air, thirty Death Eaters had ambushed them, and a battle had ensued. Mad-Eye was killed after Mundungus Fletcher got cold feet and fled, leaving Mad-Eye to be struck by a curse and subsequently fall to his death. Hedwig had been killed by a stray Killing Curse very early on in the chase; there had been no way Harry could have protected her.

The shock of losing Mad-Eye hung over the house in the following days; Harry kept expecting to see him stumping in through the back door like the other Order members, who passed in and out to relay news. Harry felt that nothing but action would assuage his feelings of guilt and grief and that he ought to set out on his mission to find Snape and destroy the Horcruxes as soon as possible.

Speaking of Snape, Harry's doubt of the man's loyalty had increased once he got to the Burrow because Hedwig and Mad-Eye had not been the only casualties.

While Lupin and George had been flying, Snape had been there amongst the other Death Eaters. That was understandable. What was not understandable was that he had apparently cast _Sectumsempra_ and permanently sliced George's ear off. Harry also had a nagging thought that it was Snape who had leaked the information about the battle. He must have, for no one knew about his role in Dumbledore's death until the night he left Privet Drive.

"Yeah," replied Harry. "I miss them. If I could only destroy the Horcruxes…"

"Well, we can't do anything about the Horcruxes till you're seventeen, and if anyone learns that we're going to look for Snape, they'll kill you. We can plan here as well as anywhere, can't we? Or d'you reckon you already know where the Horcruxes are?" asked Ron, getting right to business.

"No," Harry admitted.

"I know Hermione's been doing a bit of research on how to find the Muggle records," said Ron. "She said she was saving it for when you got here. The Trace'll break on the thirty-first."

"That means I only need to stay here four days," said Harry. "Then I can—"

"Five days," Ron corrected him firmly. "We've got to stay for the wedding. They'll kill us if we miss it."

Harry understood "they" to mean Fleur and Mrs. Weasley.

"It's one extra day," said Ron, when Harry looked mutinous.

"Don't they realize how important—?"

"'Course they don't," said Ron. "They haven't got a clue. And now you mention it, I wanted to talk to you about that."

As Ron opened his mouth to speak, there was a knock on the door.

"May I come in?" asked Hermione's voice from the other side.

"Yeah," replied Harry. Hermione came in and sat next to Ron.

"I think I know how to find Tobias Snape's records. I asked my parents about public records and they told me about the Public Records Act, which was passed in 1958. You can find records of someone by going to the National Archives website."

"I'm sorry…but what in bloody hell are you talking about?" asked Ron confusedly.

"Muggles have these things called computers," explained Harry. "Think of them as a compact, infinite library."

"I can show you how they work after the wedding, Ron," said Hermione. "Since my parents are dentists, they use them all the time."

"So you can find Tobias Snape's records by using the Internet? That's brilliant!" praised Harry. He turned to Ron. "Did you manage to find a way to find Eileen Snape's records?"

"You can get records at Gringotts, but I don't think the goblins will be as lenient as the Muggles apparently are with information. They'll need to have a reason, I'm sure."

"It's not as easy to get Muggle records, either," countered Hermione. "That's why we have to wait until I'm eighteen, which is the Muggle age of majority, to look for the records."

Ron raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

"This is going to be much easier than I thought," he commented with a grin.

"It is," said Harry with an awed tone.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something else, but she was interrupted with Mrs. Weasley's call from downstairs.

"Well," said Ron with a shrug, "we can always plan later. Just try not to make Mum too suspicious. She doesn't know that we're dropping out of Hogwarts yet, so we should keep it that way, yeah?"

Harry looked between the two of his friends before giving his answer:

"Sounds like a plan to me."


End file.
